


Love Really

by itstoobloodyhot



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Holidays, Inspired by Love Actually, Love Actually References, M/M, Multi, Other, characters will be added as i remember them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-07 02:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12831762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstoobloodyhot/pseuds/itstoobloodyhot
Summary: Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at O’Hare International Airport. General opinion started to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. Seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy but it’s always there. Father and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from people on board were messages of hate or revenge, they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling, you’ll find that love really is all around.(Essentially just Love Actually with a bunch of musicians. Happy Holidays!)





	1. Chapter 1

5 weeks til Christmas.

 

A studio. 

 

Attempt number 23 at getting a song to go to number one.

 

“I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes.” Pete Wentz sang into a microphone, to an audience of one. “Love is all around me, and so the-”

 

“I’m afraid you did it again, Pete.” Patrick stopped the music, sighing. Couldn’t he get one fucking line right so they could all go home?

 

“It’s just I know the old version so well, you know.” Pete folded his arms. Good Lord. They were going to be here all night, weren’t they?

 

“Well, we all do.” Patrick smiled, even though he felt like strangling him through the glass of the recording room. “That’s why we’re making the new version.”

 

“Right, okay, let’s go.” Pete waited for the music to flow back through his headphones. “I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes. Love is all ar- Oh, fuck, shit, damn, bitch, asshead and hole.” The wrong word. Again. Fucking wonderful. Pete rubbed his eyes, tired as hell. “Start again.” The music started up again, sounding very 2003. “I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes. Christ _mas_ is all around me, and so the feeling grows.” A smile found its way on to both of their faces, finally a correct line! “It’s written in the wind, it’s everywhere I go. So if you really love Christmas, come on and let it snow…” Pete rubbed his forehead, wanting it all to be over. “This is shit, isn’t it?”

 

Patrick grinned. “Yep, solid gold shit, Maestro.” They were going to make a lot of money out of this, Patrick could feel it. Pete had been… kind of a big deal in the late eighties, and although he was ridiculously washed up, Patrick was confident that he could get something out of Pete. He was Pete Wentz, after all. Rocker extraordinaire. Well, rocker extraordinaire who hadn’t had a top 10 single in over five years, now. Wow, Patrick really wasn’t doing his job.

 

***

 

William Beckett had his bags in one hand, a scarf around his neck, and a box of tissues for Ian in the other. “God, I’m so late.”

 

Ian sniffled, pulling a blanket up around his chest and smiling. “It’s just around the corner, you’ll make it.” William worried far too much, in his opinion. He just needed to relax.

 

“You sure you don’t mind me going without you?” William frowned. It was something Ian wouldn’t want to miss, he was sure, but if he was so sick, then-

 

“No, really. I’m just feeling so rotten.” Yes, so incredibly rotten that when Spencer came over and William finally left, he would be having the time of his life.

 

“I love you.” William finally let go of the tissue box, using his free hand to make sure Ian was all tucked in and cozy. Being sick was awful, and it would be snowing at some point, so warmth really was the number one priority. 

 

“I know.” Ian had to keep in an eye roll. Could he go already?

 

“I love you even when you’re sick and look disgusting.” William bent down, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Oh, now he was going to get sick, wasn’t he? Damn.

 

“I know,” Ian smirked, giving him a playful shove. “Now, go or you will actually miss it!”

 

William nodded. “Right.” He headed straight out the door, nothing was going to stop him now. he was on his way. Unless. “Did I mention that I love you?”

 

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yes, you did! Get out, loser.” He grinned, flicking off the television as soon as William left.

 

***

 

“Gee, it’s me again. I’m sorry, I literally don’t have anybody else to talk to.” Mikey swallowed, trying not to let too much emotion into his voice while he was on the phone. 

 

“Absolutely. Horrible moment, though. Can I call you back?” Gerard balanced the phone on one shoulder and tried to keep a loud child waiting until the conversation was finished. 

 

“Of course.” Mikey did not mean ‘Of course’. He meant ‘How could you be doing this my wife just died’, but that wasn’t really the sort of thing you should say over the phone.

 

Gerard, of course, picked up on this. “Doesn’t mean I’m not terribly concerned that your wife just died.” He smiled a little, hoping that Mikey would know and hear it. 

 

“Understood. Uh, piss off, call me later.” Mikey hung up, before cradling his head in his hands. Oh boy. This was going to massively suck.

 

Gerard, on the other hand, was pretending to be extraordinarily excited. “So what’s this big news?”

 

Bandit, in full school uniform, stood proudly, arms folded. “We’ve been given out parts in the nativity play,” she said, eyes shining, “and I’m the lobster.” She said ‘Lobster’ the way one might say ‘Lead Role’.

 

Gerard blinked. “… The lobster?”

 

“Yeah.” Bandit nodded, smile still fully intact.

 

“In the nativity play?” Gerard squinted. 

 

“Yeah! First Lobster!” Was the school performing a by-the-sea version or something? Gerard could only guess it was, somehow, very important.

 

“There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?” He bent down, lifting Bandit up and balancing her on his hip.

 

“Duh!” Bandit rolled her eyes, giving Gerard a hard poke in the cheek.

 

***

 

Sarah adjusted her dress nervously as Ryan watched on. Nothing was going to go wrong today, it absolutely couldn’t.

 

“No surprises?” She almost whispered, taking Ryan’s hands in her own, perfectly manicured ones.

 

Ryan smiled. “No surprises.” A tiny little lie. The surprise was one that they would definitely enjoy. 

 

“Not like the hen’s night?” Sarah’s eyebrows knitted together, forming a tiny little v between them.Everything had to go perfectly.

 

“Unlike the hen's night.” Well, that had been… interesting, hadn’t it? That was a fun surprise, in Ryan’s mind.

 

“Do you admit the Brazilian prostitutes were a mistake?” Sarah took a moment out of her nervousness to raise an eyebrow and smirk.

 

Ryan relented. “I do.”

 

Sarah folded her arms. “And it would’ve been much better if they’d not turned out to be women?” Not that all of the people she’d invited had really minded. 

 

“That is true.” Ryan ducked his head. “Good luck, kiddo.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sarah ruffled his hair, having to stand on her tiptoes. “Off you go, stand awkwardly next to Brendon.”

 

Well, it was going to be awkward, but not for the reasons Sarah thought.

 

***

 

“Mr President!”

 

The cameras flashed in Dallon’s face rather irritatingly, but he smiled and waved like the gentleman he’d been brought up to be. A short woman (well, everyone was short to him) grabbed his arm, leading him into the house. “Thank you.” Oh, sweet, sweet relief!

 

“Welcome, Mr President.” The woman led him into a room where three people were waiting patiently. 

 

Dallon sighed. “I must work on my wave.” He did a few practise waves for the woman, who smiled politely but was clearly willing him to get on with it.

 

“Would you like to meet your household staff?” She gestured to the people who were looking straight ahead carefully.

 

“Yes, I would like that very much indeed.” Dallon grinned, shooting a wave at them. “Anything to put off actually running the country.” The woman led him to an old looking man, who put out a hand for him to shake. 

 

“This is Bob. He’s in charge.”

 

‘Bob’ bowed slightly, grinning at the youthfulness of the new President. “Good morning, sir.”

 

“Good morning.” Dallon shook his hand firmly, bowing in return. “Had an uncle called Bob… hated him… I think he was a pervert.” He smiled warmly. “But I very much like the look of you.” This caused Bob to grin, and Dallon to think he looked quite a bit like Santa Claus.

 

The woman moved him along to a young woman with bright orange hair. “This is Hayley.”

 

“Hello, Hayley.” Dallon continued grinning, shaking her hand as well.

 

Hayley nodded. “Good morning, sir. I’m the housekeeper.”

 

“Oh, right.” Dallon nodded back. “It should be a lot easier with me than with the last lot, No nappies, no teenagers, no scary wife.”

 

“And this is Breezy. She’s new, like you.” The woman gestured to the last person, a pretty woman with dark hair. 

 

“Hello, Breezy.” Dallon was somewhat taken aback. She was incredibly beautiful.

 

“Hello, Dallon.” Breezy immediately blushed. “I mean, sir.” She looked pointedly at the floor, cheeks painted a bright red. Dallon swallowed. “Shit, I can’t believe I just said that.” She covered her mouth with her hands in embarrassment. “And now I’ve gone and said ‘shit’. Twice. I’m so sorry, sir.”

 

Dallon blinked, before feeling a warm grin spread across his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He took her hand, properly shaking it. “You could’ve said ‘fuck’ and we’d have been in real trouble.” He understood what she would be feeling like. After all, they were, as the woman had said, both new here.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Breezy smiled gratefully, creases forming at the corners of her eyes. “I did have an awful premonition I was going to fuck up on my first day.” The silence in the room hung much in the same way that day-old helium balloons did. “Oh, fuck it!”

 

The woman coughed. “Right, I’ll get my things and then let’s fix the country, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

“… Sarah and Brendon have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other. They declared their marriage by the giving and receiving of rings. I, therefore, proclaim that they are husband and wife.” 

 

Brendon and Sarah leant in, giving each other a kiss. Ryan half-smiled, filming on his shitty old camera.

 

Sarah, after they were finished, pinched the elbow of his suit jacket. “And you resisted the temptation for surprises.” Were there tears in her eyes? Perhaps. She was just insanely happy.

 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I’m mature now.” If only she knew what was about to happen.

 

The happy newlyweds began walking down the aisle to the regular old wedding song when there was an abrupt change to a familiar sounding Beatles song. And who else but Billie Joe Armstrong appeared out of seemingly nowhere. “All you need is love!”

 

Brendon turned, eyes shining. “Did you do this?”

 

“Uh, no.” Ryan grinned, bringing the camera up to hide his face.

 

In surprise and in pure, pure happiness, Sarah and Brendon clung to each other, pointing, smiling, and crying just a little.

 

***

 

William opened the door, parcel under one arm, various gift wrapped things in the other. All presents for family, of course. “Hello!” He called into the house before his eyes landed on Spencer. “What the hell are you doing here?” He grinned, dropping the parcel onto the couch to greet him.

 

Spencer blushed. “Oh, I just popped over to borrow some old CDs.” Oh, god, could William tell he was lying? Probably.

 

“Ian let you in, did he?” William unwrapped his scarf and unbuttoned his coat. Well, it was a surprise, but a welcome surprise. Spencer was such a lovely guy, and Ian loved him too.

 

Spencer just nodded.

 

William nodded back. “Yeah, just thought I’d pop back and see if he was better. This is good.”

 

Spencer chewed on his lip, fidgeting.

 

“Listen, um, I’ve been thinking.” William clapped him on the shoulder, one glove off. “I think we should take Mikey out on Friday. What do you think? You know what happened with his wife and all.” It was absolutely tragic. Seeing as Spencer was such a goodhearted guy, there was no way he would turn it down, would he?

 

Spencer nodded. “Okay. Sounds fine.” He couldn’t look William in the eyes. “A bit, you know, boring, but fine.”

 

William was about to speak when he heard a voice that could only be Ian’s coming from the bedroom. “Hurry up, big boy! I’m naked and I want you at least twice before William gets home!”

 

Spencer turned a lovely shade of burgundy, coincidentally matching the carpet quite nicely.

 

***

 

Mikey coughed, shifting uncomfortably in his suit. There was no way he could really be comfortable in it, was there? No. Josh hadn’t smiled in at least a week. God, that was worrying.

 

He coughed again, before beginning his speech. “Kristen and I had a lot of time to prepare for this moment.” Everyone invited promptly shut up, listening carefully with glasses of white wine in their hands. “Some of her requests, for instance, that I should bring Billie Joe Armstrong as my date to the funeral, I was confident she expected me to ignore.” That was met with quiet laughter. People wondering if it was okay to laugh at a funeral, most likely. “But others she was pretty damn clear about. When she first mentioned what’s about to happen, I said, ‘Over my dead body’. And she said, ‘No, Mikey, over mine’…” The laughter had faded, then faces returning back to being sullen. “And as usual, my darling girl…” Mikey glanced over at Josh, who was staring at his feet. “And Josh’s darling mom was right. So she’s going to say her final farewell to you, not through me, but, inevitably, ever so cooly, through the immortal genius of the Bay City Rollers.” He half-smiled as the song begun over the speakers.

 

“Bye bye baby, baby goodbye…”

 

And then, and only then, he let the tears begin to fall.

 

***

 

“Bye bye baby, baby goodbye…”

 

Ryan continued filming on his shitty camera. Brendon and Sarah danced, slowly, almost grinned a hole in the floor with their circling. God, they looked so happy. What he didn’t notice was a man sitting next to him.

 

“Do you love her?” Spencer raised his eyebrows at him, putting a hand on his back.

 

Ryan jumped, stopping filming. “Uh... uh… what?”

 

Spencer raised his hands up in defence. “No, I-I just thought I’d ask the blunt question in case it was the right one and you needed someone to talk to about it and no one had ever asked you so you’ve never been able to talk about it even though you might have wanted to-” He looked fit to continue his apologetic rambling, slightly red in the face, and Ryan thought it was best to cut him off.

 

“No. No.” He looked back up at the dancing newlyweds. “No is the answer. Absolutely not.” In love with Sarah? Fuck no. Not that she wasn’t, y’know, gorgeous, Ryan just didn’t… swing that way, if you caught his drift.

 

Spencer smiled, still apologetic. “So that’s a no, then?”

 

“Yes.” Ryan nodded, relieved. Oh shit, now he had to have a proper conversation. “Um… This DJ, what do you reckon? The worst in history?”

 

“Probably.” Spencer coughed. “I think it all hangs on the next song.”

 

And the DJ, being… the worst DJ, begun to play a song called ‘Puppy Love’.

 

Ryan raised his eyebrows, somewhat stunned. “He’s done it. It’s official.”

 

Spencer grabbed two glasses off the table behind them. “Worst DJ in the world.”

 

***

 

Andy adjusted his headphones, cringing to the end of Pete Wentz’s new single. “That was the Christmas effort from the once great Pete Wentz.” He sighed. It was fucking awful. “Oh, how the mighty fall. I can safely say that is the worst record I’ve heard this century…” He was distracted by Joe’s frantic signalling through the glass between their booths. “…And coincidentally, I believe Pete will be a guest on my friend Joe’s show in a few minutes’ time. Welcome back, Pete.” He rested his head in his hands. If he had to hear that record again, he’d honestly shove a pencil through his ears.

 

“So Pete, welcome back to the airwaves.” Joe straightened the cards that he’d written questions on only a few hours prior. “New Christmas single, cover of ‘Love Is All Around’-”

 

“Except we’ve changed the word ‘love’ to ‘Christmas’.” Pete butted in, relaxing in his spinning chair. 

 

“Yes.” Joe nodded. “Is that an important message to you, Pete?”

 

Pete sighed. “Not really, Joe.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Christmas is a time for people with someone they love in their lives.”

 

“And that’s not you?” Joe raised his eyebrows in fake sympathy. It was… quite common that celebrity guests, especially those in their later years, would come on the show and turn it into a bit of a pity party.

 

But Pete smiled. “That’s not me, Joseph.” He cracked his fingers. “When I was young and successful, I was greedy and foolish and now I’m left with no one, wrinkled and alone.”

 

Joe blinked. “Wow. Thanks for that, Pete.”

 

“For what?” Pete raised an eyebrow. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t really done anything.

 

Joe dropped the question cards. “For actually giving a real answer to a question.” He rested his head on his fist. “It doesn’t often happen here at Radio Chicago, I can tell you.”

 

“Ask me anything, I’ll tell you the truth.” Pete grinned, spreading his hands.

 

It took Joe less than a second to think of a question. “Best fuck you ever had?”

 

“Britney Spears.” It took Pete less than a second to answer.

 

“Wow.” Joe leaned back, folding his arms.

 

“No, only kidding.” Pete folded his arms right back. “She was rubbish.”

 

“Okay, here’s on.” Joe leaned forward, conspiratorially. “How do you think the new record compares to your old, classic stuff?”

 

Pete let his head drop back. “Come on, Joe, you know as well as I do that the record’s crap.” He pretended not to notice Patrick in the waiting room, looking downright furious. It felt fucking great to get back at him sometimes. Even if all he’d done was boost sales. “But wouldn’t it be great if number one this Christmas wasn’t some smug teenager but an old ex-drug addict searching for a comeback at any price?” He sat up, grinning. “Those young popsters come Christmas will be stretched out naked with a cute chick balancing on their balls and I’ll be stuck in some dingy flat with my manager Patrick, shortest man in the world, fucking miserable because our fucking gamble didn’t pay off.” Andy looked increasingly worried with each ‘fuck’ that was broadcast. Pete leaned in close to the microphone. “So if you believe in Santa Claus, children, like your Uncle Pete does, buy my festering turd of a record. And particularly enjoy the incredible idiocy of the moment we try to squeeze an extra syllable into the fourth line.”

 

Joe raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re referring to ‘If you really love Christmas…’”

 

“'Come on and let it snow.’” Pete winced. “Ouch.”

 

“So, here it is one more time, the dark horse for this year’s holiday number one, ‘Christmas Is All Around’.” Joe, despite being Jewish, decided that he would be listening to it on repeat, if only to pay Pete back for the amazing interview. “Thank you, Pete. After this, the news. Is the new President in trouble already?”

 

Pete turned, giving Patrick a thumbs up. Patrick let his head sink into his hands.

 

 

***

 

4 weeks til Christmas.

 

Dallon was conducting a meeting with his party. “Okay, what’s next?” He’d kill for some coffee.

 

“The Prime Minister of Australia’s visit.” One member piped up. Dallon felt a tiny part of his soul wither away. That was bound to be _fun_.

 

“Ah, yes, yes.” Goodness gracious. Wasn’t Australia still one of Britain’s colonies? “I fear this is going to be a difficult one to play.”

 

The same member nodded. “There’s a very strong feeling in the party that we mustn’t allow ourselves to be bullied from pillar to posts, like the last government.”

 

The other members nodded.

 

A different member…. well, he looked like a Smith?… folded his hands. “This is our first really important test, let’s take a stand.”

 

“Right. Right.” Dallon considered this, taking a deep breath. “I understand that, but I have decided… not to. Not this time.” It was, of course, not met with much happiness. Dallon closed his eyes. This was going to be fine. He was in control. “We will, of course, try to be clever, but let’s not forget that Australia is one of the most dangerous countries in the world. The Prime Minister could bring all sorts of deadly creatures with him. I’m not going to act like a petulant child.” The party seemed to agree albeit reluctantly. Dallon smiled. “Right. Now, who do you have to screw around here to get a cup of coffee and a chocolate cookie?”

 

Just as he finished speaking, a tray appeared around the corner, and then Breezy, wearing a pencil skirt that really was quite lovely-

 

Dallon felt his cheeks begin to heat up, and swallowed, hoping the smile would look easy. “…Right.”

 

A little later, back in his office, he heard a knock on his door and shut the tab he had been looking at on his computer. “Yep, come in.”

 

“These have just come through from the Treasury.” Breezy was carrying a tray and some files. God, she looked beautiful. She put the files down in front of him. “And these are for you.” A steaming cup of coffee and some chocolate cookies. 

 

“Excellent.” Dallon smiled, opening one of the files. “Thanks a lot.”

 

Breezy started towards the door but turned around halfway. “I was hoping you’d win.” She blurted out, before realising what that could mean, her cheeks tinging with spots of pink. Her eyes widened similarly to how they had on their first, slightly awkward meeting. “Not that I wouldn’t have been nice to the other guy, too!” She smiled, showing the apples of her cheeks. “Just always given him the boring cookies with no chocolate.”

 

“Ha!” Wow, beautiful, smart, and funny too? “Thanks very much. Thanks…” Dallon hesitated. Breezy dipped her head, and left, shutting the door without making a noise. “… Breezy. Oh God, come on, get a grip.” His head met his hands. “You’re the President, for God’s sake.”

 

 

***

 

Frank wandered around his office. It helped him think, really. A secretary, Ray was his name, took notes on an absurdly tiny notepad. “Right, the Christmas party, not my favourite night of the year and your unhappy job to organise.”

 

“Tell me.” Ray smiled. Frank pretended not to notice.

 

“It’s basic, really.” He sat on the edge of his desk, straightening his jacket. “Find a venue, over-order on the drinks, bulk buy the guacamole and advise the girls to avoid Brent if they want their breasts unfondled.”

 

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Husbands, wives and family and stuff?” 

 

“Yes.” Frank twisted his ring subconsciously. “I mean, not children.”He held back a shudder. Why on earth had he had three? And just imagining the little ones running around while their parents got obscenely drunk was… terrifying. “But their wives, husbands, spouses, girlfriends, etcetera…” He paused, frowning at Ray. “Oh, Christ, you haven’t got some horrible ten-foot, hot-pink-wearing boyfriend you’ll be bringing, have you?”

 

“No.” Ray slowly smiled, bringing his bottom lip to sit between his teeth. “I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, hoping to be kissed.”

 

Frank swallowed. “Really?” He stood, trying to gain some standing despite the hugely apparent height difference. “Right.”

 

***

 

Mikey sighed, warm cup of cocoa between his hands. “He spends all the time in his room.” He shot a glance up at Josh’s room, pursing his lips. “I mean, he’ll be up there now.”

 

“There’s nothing unusual about that.” Gerard nudged him. God, Mikey really did worry too much. “My horrid son…”

 

“Miles?” Mikey blew on the cocoa, then took a sip. 

 

“Miles.” Gerard took a sip of his own cup. “Stays in his room all the time. Thank goodness.”

 

Mikey shook his head. “No, but Gee, this is _all_ the time.” He swallowed, before letting go of the mug to gesture. “I’m afraid that there’s something really wrong, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s clearly about his mom, but Christ, he might be… injecting heroin into his eyes for all I know.” It was an exaggeration, Mikey knew that, but Gee just wasn’t getting his point. At least he still had Frank.

 

“At the age of eleven?” Gerard raised his eyebrows, tucking his hair behind his ears. 

 

“Well, maybe not his eyeballs, then.” Mikey let himself laugh a little. “Maybe just his veins.” He leant onto Gee’s shoulder like the weight of the whole world was on him, and in a way, it was. “The problem is his mom always used to talk to him, you know, and… I don’t know, this whole stepfather thing seems suddenly to somehow matter like it never did before.”

 

“Listen.” Gerard wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing gently. “It was always going to be a totally shit time. Just be patient.” He leaned down to try and look into Mikey’s eyes. “And maybecheck his room for needles.”

 

This time, Mikey couldn’t even bring up a laugh. “And then when he sometimes does come out, it’s obvious he’s been crying.” He felt his shoulders start to shake. “It was such a ridiculous waste. And if it’s now going to ruin Josh’s life as well… I just don’t know.” He wiped at his eyes roughly. He was such a mess.

 

Gerard leant his head onto Mikey’s. “Get a grip.” He smiled, pushing Mikey up to look at him properly. “People hate sissies.” He nudged him again. “No one’s going to fuck you if you cry all the time.”

 

“Yeah.” Mikey nodded, letting out a chuckle. “Absolutely. Helpful.”

 

Later that day, after Gerard had had to go and pick up his kids, Mikey took Josh out for a walk.

 

“So what’s the problem, Joshua?” Mikey cast a glance down at him. Josh was staring at his feet. “Is it just Mom, or is it something else?” The reached a bench, where both sat down. Josh’s feet still couldn’t quite reach the floor. “Maybe school? Are you being bullied? Or is it something worse?” And Mikey’s mind was off, thinking of anything terrible that could be happening to him. “Can you give me any clues at all?”

 

Josh was quiet for a moment, before looking up at him, incredibly seriously for an eleven-year-old. “You really want to know?”

 

Mikey nodded. “I really want to know.”

 

Josh’s mouth straightened into a flat line. “Even though you won’t be able to do anything to help?”

 

Mikey nodded again. “Even if that’s the case, yeah.”

 

“Okay.” Josh looked back out at the park. “Well, truth is, actually… I’m in love.”

 

Mikey blinked. What had he just said? “Sorry?”

 

“I know I should be thinking about Mom all the time, and I am, but the truth is,” Josh took a deep breath. “I’m in love. I was in love before she died and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

Mikey felt a smile on his face and a laugh bubbling up in his chest. “Aren’t you a bit young to be in love?”

 

“No.” Josh continued to look, very seriously, out to the park.

 

“Oh well.” Mikey turned, look at the park as well. “Okay, well… I’m a little relieved.”

 

Josh turned, frowning. “Why?”

 

“Because I…” Mikey chuckled, looking back down at him. “I thought it’d be something worse.” Like heroin. In the eyeballs.

 

Josh continued to frown. “Worse than the total agony of being in love?”

 

Mikey shook his head. God, what a serious kid. “Uh, no, you’re right.” He continued to smile, nevertheless. “Total agony.”

 

***

 

“Alone again.” William sat on the plane to Paris, to his little cabin that he used to write. “Naturally.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am aware that the white house is in washington d.c.
> 
> the thing is
> 
> i am just an idiot
> 
> and not american

Dallon sighed. Damn. Being President was hard. Not that he really minded. For once, he’d be able to brag to Gerard. He made a mental note to call him at some point while he sifted through the files, before spotting Breezy walking past his door. “Ah, Breezy?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

 

“Sir?” Breezy stopped in her tracks, raising her eyebrows. Her hair, which had not expected her to stop so suddenly, continued, then bounced back in what looked like slow motion.

 

“Um.” Shit. Dallon hadn’t thought that far. He stood up from his desk (were Presidents supposed to sit on the desk?) and took a few steps towards the door. “I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about us working in such close proximity every day,” He started, not knowing where he would be going with this. “And me knowing so little about you, it seems elitist – and wrong.” Dallon couldn’t help but feel a rush of self-satisfaction. Ah, done like a true politician. This way, he got to find out more about Breezy, and it just made him seem like a genuinely nice person. Most politicians were not genuinely nice to people.

 

Breezy tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, there’s not much to know.” She took the file she was holding and folded her arms in front of it, holding it tight to her chest.

 

Dallon swallowed, leaning on the doorframe. “Well, um, where do you live, for instance?” Damn. He looked so cool. How smooth could he get? Well, he could probably get a little smoother if he didn’t have to bend over in order to not hit his head.

 

“Harlem Avenue.” Breezy smiled. Dallon tried his hardest not to gulp. It should be illegal for someone to be that beautiful. “Uh, the dodgy end.” She added, glancing away. Oh, she was embarrassed. 

 

Dallon smiled, trying his hardest to make himself more relatable. “Oh, my good friend lives on Harlem Avenue.” Oh, it wasn’t working, she still seemed incredibly embarrassed. “So, which exactly is the dodgy end?”

 

Breezy’s mouth curved into an ‘o’ before realisation appeared in her eyes. “Oh, right at the North end, you know the one.”

 

Dallon nodded, much too much. “Right, yes, that is dodgy.” Oh, no, Breezy was looking embarrassed again. She glanced away, the smile beginning to fade, or look more forced. Dallon coughed. “Um, and you live with your husband? Boyfriend?” She didn’t seem to have any reaction, so Dallon’s head went to exaggeration for humour. “Three illegitimate but charming children?”

 

“No.” Breezy giggled. “I’ve just broken up with my boyfriend, actually,” So she was single? Dallon, despite himself, felt a little burst of hope in his heart. “So I’m back with my mom and dad.”

 

Dallon tried to wipe the smile off his face. That was not something to be smiling about! He pretended to scratch a spot on the back of his neck, hiding his mouth. “Oh. Sorry.”

 

Breezy waved a hand. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m done with him.” She glanced down at her feet, a little self consciously. “He said I was getting fat.”

 

Dallon choked. “I beg your pardon?” Getting fat? _What the fuck?_ She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. 

 

“He said no one would like a girl with thighs the size of tree trunks.” Breezy still hadn’t looked Dallon in the eye. She picked at one of her fingernails. “Not a nice guy, actually. In the end.” The smile on her face had disappeared.

 

“Right…” Dallon folded his arms. “You know, um, being president, I could just have him murdered.” That would make her smile, right? A little bit of dark humour?

 

His hypothesis was proven correct. “Thank you, sir.” Breezy began beaming, making Dallon’s heart melt. “I’ll think about it.” Dark humour always prevailed.

 

“The CIA is absolutely wonderful.” Dallon grinned, wanting to touch her but not really having the confidence to do so. He gestured vaguely to the landline on his desk. “Ruthless, trained killers are just a phone call away.”

 

Breezy smiled wide, bobbed her head, and left. The ‘thank you’ didn’t need to be said. Dallon’s heart felt as though it was exploding.

 

“Oh, God.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking up at a portrait of George Washington. “Did you have this kind of problem?”The painting stared down, looking mildly uncomfortable. “Of course you did, you sexy ass.”

 

***

 

“So, let’s go.” Mikey cracked his knuckles. Helping Josh with his ‘love’ (Mikey still wasn’t sure that it wasn’t just a crush) was a welcome distraction from thinking about… well. “We can definitely crack this.” Josh looked doubtful. “Remember, I was a kid once, too.” Josh looked even more doubtful. Mikey folded his arms, a little defensively. “So, come on, it’s someone at school, right?” 

 

Josh nodded as if that was perfectly obvious.

 

“Uh huh.” Mikey swallowed. God, he was turning into a teenager already! “Good, good.” He plopped down on the couch next to the kid. “And what do they feel about you?” Why couldn’t relationships just be simple, easy little things?

 

“ _She_ doesn’t even know my name.” Josh twisted so he was looking at Mikey, bright yellow hair not complimenting his serious expression. “And even if she did, she’d despise me.” Mikey turned his head. “She’s the coolest girl in school, and everyone worships her because she’s heaven.”

 

“Good, good.” Mikey folded his arms, leaning back on the couch. “Well, basically you’re fucked, aren’t you?”

 

***

 

3 weeks til Christmas.

 

“Hi there and welcome back!” Andy folded his arms, leaning into the microphone. “So, three weeks till Christmas, and it looks like the real competition is gonna be Green Day.”

 

Pete groaned. “I heard them on the show last week.” All eyeliner and spiky hair, how ridiculous. “They weren’t very nice about my record.”

 

“No.” Andy grinned, just glad that the swearing hadn’t begun yet. “Little scamps.”

 

“But very, very talented,” Pete hesitated, as though swallowing back bile. “…Musicians.”

 

“Yeah.” Joe, who wanted nothing more than for Pete to speak his mind. “Pete, I understand you’ve got a prize for our competition winners?”

 

Pete relaxed into his chair. “Yes, I have.” Out of his pocket, he produced a fat pen. “It’s a personalised felt-tip pen.” Neither Andy nor Joe looked particularly excited.

 

Joe went so far as to rest his head on his fist. “Oh, great.”

 

“It’s brilliant!” Pete uncapped it, grin wider than the Grand Canyon. “It even writes on glass, so if you’ve got a framed picture, like, for instance, this one of Green Day,” He took the picture, placing it down in front of him. “You can just write on it!”

Joe craned his neck to see what exactly Pete was writing. “He’s writing… ‘We’ve… got… small… di-‘”

 

Andy spluttered. “Uh, a lot of kids listening, Joe!”

 

Pete, still smiling incredibly mischievously, recapped the pen. “Oh, yes.” He leaned into the microphone, clasping his hands together. “Hiya, kids. Here’s an important message from your Uncle Pete – don’t buy drugs.” Andy smiled. Finally, a good, sensible message from Pete. Not that it would last. “Become a pop star and they’ll give you them for free.”

 

“And I do believe that’s a commercial break!” Andy cut in, glancing at Patrick, who was on the verge of tears. “Thank goodness. We’ll be back soon. Bye!”

 

***

 

“Okay.” Ryan sighed. “Let’s say, uh, Thursday, my place.”

 

“Great.” Sarah nodded, despite knowing that Ryan wouldn’t be able to see that on the phone. It would be great to catch up again one way or another. “But for now, I’ve got Brendon on the other line. Can I patch you through?” She knew she had to plead, Ryan didn’t really like Brendon, despite her best efforts. “He wants to ask you a favour.”

 

Ryan pinched his temples. “Okay, fine.”

 

“Thanks.” Sarah smiled, then gasped. “Oh, and be nice!”

 

Ryan’s mouth gaped in fake-offence. “I’m always-“

 

“Ryan?” Ryan had always thought Brendon had a beautiful voice, and this is was just… ever so slightly painful.

 

“Hi.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes closing. “How was the honeymoon?”

 

“Oh, it was great!” Brendon couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “Thanks for the gorgeous sendoff.”

 

Ryan swallowed through the pain. “So, what can I do for you?”

 

“It’s only a tiny favour.” Brendon still sounded like he was smiling. It was so obviously clear that he and Sarah were happy together. So Ryan’d just have to have a broken heart forever. “I’ve just had a look at the wedding video and it’s complete shit. It’s all blue and awful.”

 

“…I’m sorry.” Ryan blinked.

 

Brendon, with a start, realised that he needed to give more explanation. “And I remember you filming a lot on the day.” He paused, sounding quite sheepish. “I just wondered if I could look at your stuff.”

 

Ryan felt the familiar heat begin to dance along his cheeks. It always happened when in conversation with Brendon. “Oh no,” Shit, time for excuses. “Look, to be honest, I didn’t really-”

 

“Please.” Ryan’s breath caught in his throat. Brendon sounded so desperate. “All I want is just one shot of me and Sarah that isn’t bright turquoise.”

 

“Okay.” Wait. What had he just said? Had he just agreed? Shit. “I’ll have a look.” And he was continuing to agree to this?! Fuck. Okay. Ryan decided he had to make an excuse. “But-but, to be honest, I’m pretty sure I wiped it, so don’t get any hopes up.” He coughed. “Um, gotta go.”

 

***

 

Frank was… obligated to stop by Ray’s desk to check how everything was going. “So, how’s the Christmas party going?” He should really ask Ray to stop wearing such tight clothes to work, after all, it was supposed to be a professional working space. 

 

“Good.” Ray spun his chair around, pencil in his mouth. “Think I’ve found a venue. A friend of mine works there.”

 

“What’s it like?” Frank folded his arms, pretending not to notice Ray’s obvious attempts at – ahem – flirting.

 

“Good, good.” Ray reached up, taking the pencil out of his mouth. Frank tugged on his collar. Was it warm in there? “It’s an art gallery.” Ray uncrossed his legs. Frank kept his eyes firmly on his face. “Full f dark corners for doing… dark deeds.”

 

“Oh.” Frank blinked, then swallowed, feeling a rush of heat on his cheeks. “Right. Good.” He took a deep breath, thinking off his family. “I suppose I should take a look at it or something.”  
  
Ray smiled, catlike. “You should.”

 

***

 

William opened the door of his cabin and was greeted by a blonde woman who looked suitably cheerful. “Oh. bonjour, Linda.”

 

“Bonjour, Monsieur Beckett.” Linda smiled, looking not at all subtly behind William and into the house. “Welcome back. And this year, you bring a guest?” Linda, being a family friend, was always watching out for him. Although, her particular style of watching out was trying to set him up with, well, anyone really.

 

“No.” William had been planning on bringing Ian, but, well… “There’s been a change of situation.” He tried not to let too much sadness show on his face, forcing a small smile that looked more like a grimace. “Just me.”

 

“Oh.” Linda, to her credit, continued to smile. “Am I sad or not sad?”

 

William smiled back, as best as he could, in any case. “I think you’re not surprised.”

 

Linda nodded, tucking her cardigan tight around herself. “And you stay here until Christmas?” She waited for William to nod, then continued. “Good. Well, I find you a perfect person to clean the house. This is Gabriel.” She gestured to her car, where a tall (Fuck, he was incredibly tall) man was standing, looking somewhat out of place.

 

William, still on his front doorstep, waved. “Uh, bonjour, Gabriel.”

 

“Bonjour.” Hm. Gabriel pronounced it with a different accent to Linda. He stood next to the car until Linda beckoned him.

 

William swallowed. Shit, he was handsome too. “Um, je suis, uh, tres heureux de vous avoir ici.”

 

Linda stopped him with a hand. “Unfortunately, he cannot speak French,” She nudged William in the side. “Just like you. He’s Uruguayan.”

 

“Oh… Uh, buongiorno.” William tried his best. “Muito bom. Um, Como você se tornou um limpador?”

 

Linda shook her head. “Anyone can be a cleaner nowadays, William. And “muito bom” is Portuguese!”

 

William felt a blush start to appear, and swallowed, reverting to English. “Right. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you and…” He went quiet at the lack of recognition on Gabriel’s face. 

Linda clapped her hands together. “And perhaps you can drive him home after his work?” Finally, one of her plans to set William up with someone was working.

 

William cleared his throat, opening the door wide and gesturing to Gabriel to go inside. “Oh, absolutely, yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, then tried an attempt at communication again. “Con grande, um, plesura-”

 

“Which is what?” Linda folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps this would be more difficult than she imagined. “Turkish?”

 

Later that evening, on the way home, William attempted conversation again. “Bello.” Gabriel looked quite surprised and a little flattered. William pointed at the trees and mountains. “Bella. M-Montañas… árboles…” Gabriel didn’t respond. William coughed, keeping both hands firmly on the steering wheels. “No, right. Silence is golden. As the Tremeloes said. Clever guys,” Oh God, he was rambling. “Although I think the original version was by Frankie Valli And The Four Seasons. Great band.” To try and accentuate his point, and to his own great embarrassment, he started humming it. Gabriel giggled. “Oh, shut up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so common sense would have the prime minister of britain show up
> 
> however i have put the aussie one
> 
> because i am an aussie and he's an idiot

The Prime Minister of Australia stepped, ever so cooly, out of his car, where Dallon greeted him. “Prime Minister, welcome!”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Prime Minister grinned warmly, then, with Dallon’s guidance, went inside. 

 

They made their way up the stairs. “I’m sorry your wife couldn’t make it, by the way.” Dallon thought it would be a good idea to make polite conversation, to increase familiarity between the world leaders.

 

The PM nodded. “So is she.” The sooner they got to work, the better. Chitchat wasn’t incredibly fun. “Although she would’ve been kind of lonely, I’m sure…”

 

Dallon nodded. “Pathetic isn’t it?” Damn, why couldn’t he be this smooth-talking around Breezy? It was impossible. “Just never been able to tie a girl down. I’m not sure politics and dating really go together.”

 

“Really?” The PM raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never found that.”

 

“Yes, well, the difference is that you’re sickeningly handsome,” Dallon gestured to his… well,not particularly handsome face, “And I look increasingly like my Aunt Pamela.” Breezy, holding a file, came down the stairs, clearly in a hurry. Dallon waved. “Ah, Breezy. Hi.”

 

The PM smiled… no, leered. “Morning, ma’am. How’s your day so far?”

 

Breezy smiled politely, ducking her head and hurrying past. 

 

The PM’s stare lingered on her. “My goodness, that’s a pretty little son of a bitch.” He hit Dallon lightly with the back of his hand. “Did you see those pipes?”

 

“Yes, she’s terrific,” Dallon frowned. The PM was married, and-and Breezy was his- No, she wasn’t. Because he hadn’t done anything yet. Fuck. “At her job.”

 

After all of the absolutely horrid meetings that day, Dallon and the PM had been settling down with glasses of whiskey. “Well,” Dallon began, feeling absurdly tired and sick of the PM, and ready for him to leave. As if he hadn’t noticed the PM staring at Breezy whenever he got an opportunity. “That was an interesting day.”

 

“I’m sorry if our line was firm.” The PM sounded anything but. “There’s no point tiptoeing around today, and then just disappointing you for as long as I’m in power.” He took a sip of the whiskey. “I have plans, and I plan to see them through.”

 

“Absolutely.” Dallon half wanted to smash his glass. When had he gotten so spineless? “There’s one last thing I think we should look at,” He stood, slightly relieved to take a break from talking to the PM. “Very close to my heart. If you could give me a second.”

 

The PM nodded. “I’ll give you anything you ask for.” He leant forward in his seat, making Dallon feel as though he should take a few steps back, despite being standing. “As long as it’s not something I don’t want to give.”

 

Dallon excused himself, walking past Breezy, who was carrying a tray of coffees and cookies into the room that the PM was waiting in. Thinking nothing of it, he collected a file, and headed back, only to find the PM’s arms wrapped around her waist and leaning in for- Well, he didn’t want to think of that. 

 

And then, the following day, the Press Conference. God, how awkward. Some strange member of the press piped up. “Prime Minister, has it been a good visit?”

 

“Very satisfactory indeed.” The Prime Minister smiled warmly. seemingly having forgotten the incident with Breezy last night. Dallon felt his blood begin to boil.“We got what we came for and our special relationship is still very special.”

 

Dallon took a deep breath. “I love that word “relationship”.Covers all manner of sins, doesn’t it?” The Prime Minister shot a wary glance at him. Dallon pushed up his glasses and pushed his hair back, mustering the strength to keep going. “I fear that this has become a bad relationship. A relationship based on the Prime Minister taking what he wants and casually ignoring all those things that really matter to, um,”His eyes met Breezy’s across the room. She looked so… apologetic. “America.” Yes, to America… He wasn’t talking about Breezy at all… “We’re a great country. The country of Hemingway, Lincoln, Green Day, Leonardo DiCaprio, Star Wars.” The press let out a few giggles at that. “Jimi Hendrix’s left hand. Jimi Hendrix’s right hand, come to think of it.” This was met with more laughter. Dallon smiled, confidence in where this speech was going building. “And a friend who bullies us is no longer a friend. And since bullies only respond to strength, from now onward, I will be prepared to be much stronger.” He cast a glance at the Prime Minister, who was looking downright scared. “And the Prime Minister should be prepared for that.” The press was in uproar. Dallon kept a measured stare at the Prime Minister, and not at Breezy at all, knowing that if he did, he’d just have to run over there and kiss her.

 

The afterparty was, of course, amazing. 

 

“It’s your friend on line four.” Some suited person handed Dallon a phone, which he, of course, picked up.

 

“Er, yes, I’m very busy and important, how can I help you?”

 

Gerard nearly screamed at him over the phone. “Have you gone completely insane?” All of their relations with Australia were finished, but Dallon was now going to be seen as somewhat of a national hero.

 

Dallon laughed, folding his arms. “You can’t be sensible all the time.”

 

“You can if you’re the President!” Gerard sucked in his teeth. This was not the right time to be a dick. That being said, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

 

“It’s the Chancellor on the other line.” Dallon made a horrible attempt at hanging up.

 

“It isn’t!” Gerard tried his best to keep him on the phone.

 

“I’ll call you back.” Dallon, cheeky as ever, slowly put the phone down.

 

“No, you won’t!” Gerard heard the click on the line and stamped, smile still fully on his face. “The trouble with being the President’s best friend is that it puts your life into really harsh perspective.” He knelt down next to the huge orange lobster head that he had spent all afternoon making. “What did my best friend do today? He stood up and fought for his country. And what did I do? I made a papier-mâché lobster head.”

 

Frank laughed from his seat on the couch. Gerard was so talkative, he didn’t really need to listen to all of it, did he? He was alerted to something spinning on the record machine, then some guitar, drums, and bass bouncing around the room. “What is this we’re listening to?”

 

“Green Day,” Gerard answered, not looking up from the final touches of the lobster head.“Green Day is the band who taught your cold American husband how to feel.”

 

“Did they?” Frank leant forward, being close enough to kiss his husband on the cheek. “Oh, well, that’s good.” That was enough physical affection for that moment. He folded his arms and sat back, relaxing into the chair. “I must write to them sometime and say thanks.”

 

Gerard laughed, then held up two boxes. “Now, which doll for Bandit’s little friend Amelie? The one that looks like a 1940s housewife or the one that looks like a dominatrix?”

 

*** 

 

2 weeks til Christmas.

 

William tapped away at his typewriter as Gabriel tried his best to clean up around him. The last croissant that Linda had brought over the day before sat on a plate on top of a few stacks of paper. “Um.” William started. Offering someone something was difficult with the language barrier. “Would you like the last, uh?”

 

Gabriel seemed to understand and shook his head. “Muchas gracias pero no.” He shifted some paper into a neater stack that looked a great deal less perilous than before. “Si vieras a mi hermano, entenderías por qué.”

 

William swallowed, then nodded, putting it back down. “That’s alright. More for me.”

 

“Simplemente no vayas a comer tú mismo.” Gabriel smiled as though he were making a joke. William tried to understand, but it was… difficult. “Te estás volviendo más gordo todos los días.” 

 

Ah. Something about the croissant. “I’m lucky.” William patted his stomach, smiling back. “I’ve got one of those constitutions where I never put on weight.”

 

After lunch, as it was such a lovely day, William decided to do some work outside, looking at the lake. Gabriel brought him out a cup of coffee and was removing the other cup, when a gust of wind came through, picking up the pieces of paper and carrying them towards the lake.

 

“¡No! Lo siento mucho!” Gabriel cried, running after them, and onto the jetty.

 

William took a moment to look at the papers he still had, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. “God, it’s half the book. Oh, no.”

 

Gabriel had reached the end of the jetty, and stopped, looking over the edge. “Qué desastre!”

 

“Just leave them, please! They’re not important!” William waved his hands, trying to stop him from doing something stupid. “They’re not worth it! Stop!” He paused, mouth suddenly dry. Gabriel had stripped down to his underwear, toned body shining in the sunlight. And in a flash, he had jumped. “Oh, God, he’s in.” William dashed over to the jetty, ripping off his clothes too. 

 

“¡Mierda!” Gabriel resurfaced, brushing his hair out of his face. “¡Hace frío!” 

 

William, gracefully as ever, fell in and resurfaced quickly. “Fuck! It’s freezing!” 

 

Gabriel began swimming through, grabbing wet clumps of paper where he could. “Esto mejor será bueno.”

 

“It’s not worth it, you know.” William waded, trying his best to help. “It’s not fucking Oscar Wilde.”

 

“No quiero ahogarme guardando algunas cosas que mi abuela podría haber escrito.” Gabriel laughed, swimming through and trying to read what was written.

 

“Just stop.” William waded over to Gabriel, grabbing his arms. “Stop.”

 

Gabriel stared into his eyes for a moment before smiling and turning away, trying to grab more pages. “¿Qué clase de idiota no hace copias?”

 

“I really must do copies.” William sighed, relenting and grabbing some of his own pages. Then he paused, somewhat of a horrified expression on his face. “There better not be eels in here. I can’t stand eels.” 

 

“Intenta no molestar a las anguilas.” Whatever Gabriel had said, it didn’t sound that important, so William continued to wade through the water.

 

That was, of course, a bad idea. “Oh god, what the hell is that?!” He screamed, nearly completely jumping out of the water.

 

With Gabe wrapped in a towel and himself in dry clothes, William brought out two cups of cocoa that he’d made. “Thank you.” He put the cups down gently on the corner of the coffee table, taking a seat. “Thank you so much. I know.” He smiled, wrapping his hands around his cup. “I’ll name one of the characters after you.”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Tal vez podrías nombrar a uno de los personajes después de mí.” Then he shrugged, biting his lip and looking downright cheeky. "O dame el cincuenta por ciento de las ganancias.”

 

William nodded, feeling his mouth grow dry again. God, Gabriel was so handsome. “Or I could give you 5% of the profits.”

 

Gabriel glanced at the pages, not understanding any of it. “¿Qué tipo de libro es?” He thought for a second, then mimed laughing, and then put a hand over his heart, smiling. “¿Romance?”

 

“Oh!” William nodded, then thought. “It’s, um-” He reenacted the famous scene from Psycho, then pretended to strangle Gabe.

 

“Ah, uh…” Gabriel tried to think of the right words. “Suspenso ... ¿crimen?”

 

“Yes!” William grinned. “¡Sí!” He nodded furiously, so excited to be able to have sort of a conversation at last. “Crime. Crime, murder.”

 

“¿Aterrador?” Gabriel said, then gasped, looking surprised.

 

“Uh, scary?” William grinned, relaxing into his seat. “Yes, sometimes scary. And, uh, sometimes not.” He chewed his bottom lip, feeling a little embarrassed for getting so excited. “Mainly scary how bad the writing is.”

 

“Mm.” Gabriel hummed, then took his cocoa, taking a sip before standing. “Será mejor que vuelva al trabajo.”

 

“Oh.” William stood as well, taking into account how close they were.

 

“¿Y luego me llevarás a casa?” Gabriel had to bend his head in order to look William in the eyes. 

 

“Sure.” William didn’t understand a word of what Gabe was saying.“It’s my favourite time of day, driving you.”

 

Gabriel looked as though he was willing Will to understand what he was saying. “Es la parte más triste de mi día, dejándote.”

 

***

 

Ryan ate a spoonful of cereal, watching Pete Wentz on the TV. God, hadn’t he died already? The song was awful, but it as funny. At the sound of a doorbell, he muted it, putting down his bowl and walking over to the door.

 

“Apple pie?” Brendon was leant against the doorframe, with some stupid cap on that made him look adorable.

 

Ryan coughed. “No, thanks.” He needed to get a fucking grip.

 

“Thank God.” Brendon picked up a plastic fork that was sitting in the bottom of the paper container. “You would’ve broken my heart if you’d said yes.”

 

Oh, the irony. Ryan tried not to let the hurt show on his face. “Oh right, well, lucky you…”

 

“Can I come in?” Brendon peered around into his apartment. Ryan let him, making some half-assed excuse before Brendon pushed past him, going on about something. “I was just passing and I thought we might check that video thing out.” He put the pie down on the kitchen counter. “I thought I might be able to swap it for some pie,” He pulled a chocolate bar out of his jacket pocket, “Or maybe Snickers?”

 

“Actually, I was serious.” Ryan folded his arms, making his oversized jumper bunch weirdly at his forearms. “I don’t know where it is. I’ll have a look around tonight, and then-”

 

“Ryan.” Brendon’s hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. “I know you’re Sarah’s best friend and I know you’ve never particularly warmed to me.” Ryan started to say something, but Brendon continued. “Look, don’t argue. We’ve never been friendly.”His hand dropped back to his side, and it almost pained Ryan to not have its warmth anymore. “But I just wanted to say, I hope that can change. I’m nice. I really am.” He smiled, showing all of his teeth. He had smiled like that at his wedding. “Apart from my shitty taste in pie and… It would be great if we could be friends.”

 

“Absolutely.” Shit. Why the fuck did he say that? “Doesn’t mean we’ll be able to find the video, though.” He walked over to one of his shelves, pretending to seriously search through the DVDs. “I had a real search when you first called and couldn’t find any trace of it, so-”

 

“There’s one here that says ‘Sarah and Brendon’s Wedding’.” Brendon raised an eyebrow, holding up a DVD which was written on in big black block letters. “Do you think we might be on the right track?” He laughed, not unkindly, and walked over to the TV, pushing in the DVD and sitting down, ready to watch. Ryan remained standing. The footage started with Brendon watching Sarah walk down the aisle. “Oh, bingo!” Brendon clapped his hands together, clearly intensely happy. “That’s lovely. Well done, you.” The footage changed to a shot of Brendon looking serious, listening to the marriage celebrant. “I look quite handsome…” Another shot of Brendon, an extreme close up. He laughed, turning to Ryan in a joke. “You’ve stayed rather close, haven’t you?” The footage changed again, showing the send-off for his and Sarah’s honeymoon. Brendon swallowed, the cold realisation washing over him like a crashing wave. “… They’re all of me…”

 

“Yeah.” Ryan scratched his face, not meet Brendon’s eyes. “Yeah.” God, he’d really fucked up. “Yes.”

 

“But…” Brendon searched for something that would prove what he though false. “You never talk to me.” Ryan wouldn’t even look at him. Why wouldn’t he look at him? “You always talk to Sarah.” He stood, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You don’t like me!”

 

“Hope it’s useful.” Ryan swallowed, focussing on the video rather than anywhere on Brendon’s face. “Don’t show it around too much. It needs a bit of editing.” He took a step back, towards the side door. “Look, I’ve got to get to a lunch. You can just show yourself out, can’t you?” He started walking away, before turning back, making another excuse. “It’s a… self-preservation thing, you see.” And he left. God, he was a fucking idiot.

 

***

 

“Yeah.” Dallon knew he had to do something if he was going to work up the courage to do this. “Elisa, my darling, my dream, my boat.” Elisa was the name, he’d learnt, of his secretary. “Uh… need you to do a favour for me.”

 

“Of course.” Elisa smiled and nodded. “Anything for the hero of the hour.” She hugged her file to her chest. 

 

Dallon took a deep breath. Yikes. Being a hero wasn’t fun all the time. “Don’t ask me why, and don’t read stuff into this, it’s just a weird personality thing.” He waved his hand to try an explain his point more. “But, um, you know Breezy who works here?”

 

Elisa frowned. “The chubby girl?”

 

Dallon winced. “Ooooh, would we call her chubby?” His voice went up a few octaves, not that he meant it to.

 

“I think there’s a pretty sizeable ass there, yes, sir.” Elisa didn’t seem to understand what he was getting at. “Huge thighs.”

 

Dallon swallowed, fighting the urge to fire and/or yell at her. “Yeah. Well, whatever, um…” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sure she’s a great girl but I wonder if you could, um….” He looked away. “Redistribute her?”

 

“It’s done.” Elisa nodded, then excused herself. Dallon cradled his head in his hands. He felt awful, but it needed to be done. He couldn’t look her in the eyes and not remember what had happened. 

 

***

 

Mikey sat at his desk. It was three am. He couldn’t stop thinking about Kirsten. Her photo was still sitting on his desk. It was three oh one am. He was distracted from his tired spiral by Josh walking into the room in a dressing gown. “Hey, Josh. Can’t sleep?”

 

“I got some terrible news today.” Clearly. Josh looked downright morose. 

 

Mikey gathered his thoughts and leant down a bit so they were eye-level. “Let’s have it.”

 

Josh took a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Ashley’s going back to New Jersey.”

 

“Your girl’s New Jerseyan?” Mikey was a little surprised. He and Gerard and his husband were from New Jersey, but they’d both made their individual decisions to move, they hadn’t expected to meet many other New Jerseyans, but here was his step-son, falling in love with one.

 

“Yes, she’s New Jerseyan.” Josh frowned, bright yellow hair falling in front of his face. Kirsten had let him dye his hair so many times, which Mikey couldn’t help but think was very punk rock. “And she’s not my girl. And she’s going back to New Jersey.” He puffed his cheeks, then blew, making his hair dance. “That’s the end of my life as I know it.”

 

“That is terrible news.” Mikey stood, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, we need Kate and we need Leo, and we need them now. Come on.”

 

Less than a few minutes later, they were on the couch watching Titanic. “Do you trust me?” Mikey had his arms spread out behind Josh, who was standing on the table. 

 

“I trust you.” Josh smiled, all worries from Ashley leaving gone.

 

“Fool!” Mikey grabbed Josh by the waist, tickling him mercilessly.

 

“Get off, you big bully!” Josh cried, giggled being forced out of him.

 

Only a few short seconds later, they were both completely tired out. “You know, Josh, I’m sure she’s unique and extraordinary,” He shifted so he could look Josh in the eyes. “But general wisdom is that in the end, there isn’t just one person for each of us.”

 

“There was for Kate and Leo.” Josh scoffed. “There was for you. And there is for me.” He held up one index finger. “She’s the one.”

 

“Fair enough.” Mikey rolled over. Time for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

William tried to fit all of the shopping bags and presents into the car. It desperately wasn’t working. He noticed Gabriel struggling with two bags, and rushed to help him. “Oh, disculpas. Grande, uh, gran familia, grandes tradiciones de Christmas presents. Estúpido.” And with that, he was driving Gabe home for the last time.

 

“Gracias.” Gabriel looked down into William’s eyes, begging everything to let him understand. 

 

William could only fumble. “Um, it was, um-”

 

Gabe cut him off. “Te extrañaré. Y tu mecanografía muy lenta…” He mimed typing, smiling, but looking sad. “Y tu mala conducción.” He mimed driving. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Gabe took William’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. 

 

William was left stuttering on the side of the road. Why hadn’t he fucking said something?!

  


***

 

 

“Mikey!” Josh ran into his step-father’s office, looking more excited than ever, and still wearing his backpack and overcoat and snow-covered boots. “I have a plan.”

 

Mikey spun around his chair, grinning. “Thank the Lord.” He clapped his hands onto his knees, leaning down to look Josh in the eyes. “Tell me.”

 

“Well,” Josh’s eyes sparkled with pure excitement. “Girls love musicians, don’t they?”

 

“Uh huh.” Mikey couldn’t see where they were going with this. Neither of them were musicians. 

 

“Even the weird ones get girlfriends.” Josh looked absolutely certain that this plan, whatever it was, would work.

 

“That’s right.” Mikey grinned. “Pete Wentz definitely got laid at least once.” He laughed. “For God’s sake, Ringo Starr married a Bond girl!”

 

Josh blinked, not understanding Mikey’s references. “Whatever.” He carried on with his excited planning. “There’s this big concert at the end of term and Ashley’s in it. And I thought if I was in the band and play absolutely superbly, there’s a chance that she might fall in love with me.” He finished, grinning and waiting for approval. “What do you think?”

 

“I think it’s brilliant. I think it’s stellar.” Mikey frowned. “Apart from the one obvious tiny little baby little hiccup.”

 

Josh had clearly planned for that. “I don’t play a musical instrument?” Mikey nodded. “A tiny, insignificant detail.” He smiled, ever so slightly smug. That would be the beginning of many, many mornings beginning and ending with repetitive, annoying, loud drum beats.

 

***

 

“I suppose I’d better do the duty round.” Gerard took his soda and gave Frank a kiss on the cheek, before wandering off to talk to his employees.

 

“You’re a saint,” Frank called after him, before noticing that Ray was standing, in an extremely tight red shirt, just too close for comfort.

 

“Any chance of a dance with the boss?” Ray smirked. Frank thanked anyone out there that it wasn’t a slow dance.

 

“Yes, sure, sure.” He followed Ray to the middle of the floor. “As long as your boyfriend doesn’t mind.” He glanced over at  –  what was his name, Ryan? – who was standing in the corner with a cup of soda, looking depressed. 

 

“Not,” Ray tilted his head forward, making his hair fall into his face in a way that could only be described as beautiful. “My boyfriend.”

 

Frank swallowed, allowing Ray to dance closer to him. “You’re very…” He brushed his hair out of his face, knowing that Gee’s eyes were on him. “Handsome tonight,” 

Ray said something that was obscured by the music. “Sorry?”

 

Ray leant in so his mouth was beside Frank’s ear, and whispered. “It’s all for you, sir.”

 

“Look.” Frank put his arm up, pushing Ray away. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive, because I do, it’s just that I’m married."

 

Ray blinked, somewhat surprised. “Oh.”

 

He looked so sad that Frank knew he had to do something.  
  
“That was a good night.” Gerard, after the party, was getting ready for bed. Frank, on the other side of the bed, did the same. “Though I felt fat.”

 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Frank thought that Gerard was handsome whenever, but especially when he was so close and getting undressed.

 

“It’s true.” Gerard’s shirt landed on the bed, to be put away later. “Nowadays the only clothes I can fit into were once owned by Pavarotti.”

 

Frank rolled his eyes, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes. “I always think Pavarotti dresses very well.” He stood, turning to look at his husband.

 

Gerard didn’t meet his eyes. “Ray’s very handsome.”

 

Well. Frank hadn’t been expecting that. “Is he?”

 

“You know he is, darling.” Gerard dropped his trousers on the bed too and headed to the bathroom. “Be careful there.”

 

The next day, Frank left the office early. “Right.” He waved to Ray, who was dressed somewhat more normally. “Back at three. Christmas shopping, never an easy or pleasant task.”

 

Ray smiled sympathetically, before raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to get me something?”

 

“Uh.” Frank supposed it was a nice change from the obvious, rather sexual flirting. Nevertheless, did it catch him off-guard. “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought about it. Where’s Spencer, by the way?”

 

“He couldn’t make it in today.” Ray ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Family thing.”

 

Frank laughed. “There’s a word for hangover I’ve never heard before.” He wrapped his scarf around his neck, turning on his heel. “See you later.” 

 

“Yes. Looking forward to it.” Ray couldn’t have made that statement more obvious if he’d winked after saying it. “A lot.”

 

Ray didn’t leave Frank’s thoughts until he was on the street and had decided a call was in order. “So, are you going to get me something?”

 

“I thought I made it clear last night.” It was almost as though Ray was purring over the phone. “When it comes to me, you can have everything.

 

“So, um,” Frank felt a blush start to appear on his cheeks. Well, he could always blame that on the cold. “What do you need? Something along the stationery line?”

 

“No.” Frank could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t want something I need. I want something I want.”

 

Frank arrived at the shop that he and Gerard had agreed on, where Gee was waiting. “Right. Right.” He hung up, putting his phone in his pocket.

 

“Right,” Gee snaked his arm around Frank’s waist, kissing him on the head. “Listen, you keep yourself occupied for ten minutes while I do the boring stuff for our mothers.” With that, he went off, looking at tea-towels and pottery and things. Frank headed for the jewellery section and spotting two identical bracelets of gold. 

 

A man with a name tag proclaiming that his name was ‘Kenny’ interrupted his search. “Looking for anything in particular, sir?”

 

“Yes,” Frank pointed at the bracelets. “Um, these bracelets here, how much are they?”

 

“They’re $270.” Kenny didn’t bat an eye.

 

“Um, alright.” Frank glanced around, checking where Gerard was. “Uh, I’ll have it.”

 

“Wonderful.” Kenny took the bracelets out, taking out two little white boxes for them to go in. “Would you like them… gift-wrapped?”

 

Frank nodded.

 

“Wonderful.” Kenny smiled, putting them in the boxes just so, and taking two lengths of thin gold ribbon. “There.”

 

“Look.” Frank swallowed, feeling panic start to rise up. “Could we be quite quick?”

 

“Certainly sir.” Kenny took out two clear plastic bags. “Ready in the flashiest of flashes.”

 

“I don’t need a bag, I’ll put it in my pocket.” Frank protested, knowing that Gerard would want to know immediately who they were for. 

 

“Oh, this isn’t a bag, sir.” Kenny smiled, putting the boxes in the bags and grabbing a silver scoop. “This is so much more than a bag.” He got some dried roses, and dropped them in with a flourish, and then did the same with some lavender. Finally, or at least Frank hoped it was final, he dropped a stick of cinnamon in.

 

“Actually, I really can’t wait.” Frank winced, not knowing if there was something else apparently necessary. 

 

“You won’t regret it, sir.” Kenny tied up the bags. “’Tis but the work of a moment. Almost finished. Now we just pop it in the Christmas box.”

 

“I don’t want a Christmas box!” Frank cried, eyes wide with worry. “Can I just pay?”

 

Kenny didn’t seem to hear him. “All we need now is a sprig of holly-“

 

Frank spotted Gerard. “Leave it! Leave it, just leave it.”

 

“Ooh!” Gerard wrapped his arm around Frank’s waist again. “Loitering around the jewellery section, huh?”

 

“No.” Frank pretended to take offence. “I was just looking around.”

Gerard smiled, leading him away. “Don’t worry. My expectations are not that high after thirteen years of Mr Oh-But-You-Always-Love-Scarves.”

 

1 week till Christmas.

 

The Iero-Ways were crowded around their Christmas tree. Gerard tried to make sure that everyone was fair. “One present only tonight. Who’s got one for Papa?”

 

“No,” Frank reached over to hold Gee’s hand. “Let Dad go first.” Gerard reached for a small, white box with a golden ribbon. “I have bought the traditional scarf as well, but this is my other, special, personal one.”

 

Gerard opened the card first, taking the time to read through it and feeling his heart sink to his stomach.

 

_Dear Gerard,_

 

_There are some things I wish I hadn’t done, and some things I wish I’d realised sooner._

 

_Ray’s upstairs, with a present identical to the one you’re getting because I like both of you. Please go and talk to him, and I’ll get the kids ready to go. Put on your Green Day CD so they don’t hear._

 

_I didn’t do any of this to hurt you._

 

_Love always,_

 

_Frank_

 

Gerard blinked in confusion, then ripped the present, revealing a beautiful gold bracelet. He swallowed, then stood. “Do you mind if I just excuse myself for a second? All that ice cream.” Somewhat mystified by Frank’s planning, he started leaving, then stopped, turning back. “Darling, could you make sure the kids are ready to go? I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, he almost sprinted up the stairs, finding Ray sitting on his and Frank’s bed. As Frank had said in his note, Gee put the CD on, remaining standing and not feeling like anything was real. “Nice to meet you, Ray.”

 

“I should say the same to you, Gerard.” Ray looked as uncomfortable as Gerard felt.

 

Gerard thought it was best to try and lay down some ground rules. “Well, if you and Frank…” He paused, trying to choose his words wisely. “You know. Or go on dates. Don’t let the kids know.” Ray nodded. “We’re going to go soon, and I don’t know why he’s trying to make us talk about this now when we have to leave-” He checked his watch. “Soon. I’ll leave my keys here, just lock up when you go and be gone when we’re back.” He took a deep breath, and when there was no argument from Ray, Gerard turned, swallowing and walking back down the stairs, taking a deep breath before confronting his family again. 

 

Miles, Bandit, and Frank were sitting and smiling on the couch, overcoats on and bags on laps. 

 

“Oh my god!” Gerard plastered on a smile, giving Frank a slightly warning look. “It’s a miracle! You’re all dressed!” He took Bandit’s hand, while Frank bustled Miles along. “Come on, come on, we’re so late. In the car, in the car.”

 

***

 

That late night/early morning’s film of choice had not been Titanic, but rather Jaws, and left Mikey and Josh on the brink of passing out on the choice.

 

“Has she noticed you yet?” Mikey swivelled his head around to look away from the glare of the TV.

“No.” However, Josh didn’t sound that sad. “But you know the thing about romances.” A cheeky grin crossed his face. “People only get together right at the very end.”

 

Mikey chuckled. “Of course.”

 

“By the way,” Josh sat up, stretching his tiny arms. “I feel bad I never ask you how your love life’s going.”

 

“Ha!” Wow, Josh was firing on all cylinders. “No. As you know, that was a done deal long ago.” Mikey stood, turning the TV off. “Unless, of course, Bille Joe Armstrong calls, in which case I want you out of this house straight away, you tiny motherless bastard.” Josh pouted and threw a pillow at him. “No, no.” Mikey caught it and threw it back. “We’ll want to have sex in every room, including yours.”

 

***

  
Christmas Eve. Various families were on their way to a Christmas performance, but not Pete Wentz. He was at a party, listening to the radio.

 

“It’s a rainy Christmas Eve all over Chicago and the big question is who is number on the charts how tonight? Is it Green Day or the unexpected Christmas sensations from Pete Wentz?” Everyone in the room went silent, waiting for the results. “You might have guessed it although you may not believe it… It’s Pete Wentz!” The crowd went absolutely wild and someone handed him a phone. “Hello, Pete!”

 

Pete paused for a moment, before very calmly answering. “Hello.”

 

Andy sounded professional, even if he was clearly a little annoyed. “We’re live across America and you’re number one. How will you be celebrating?”

 

“I don’t know.” Pete raised his eyebrows, performing mainly for the crowd. “Uh, I could behave like a real rock and roll loser and get drunk with my tiny manager, or when I hang up, I’ll be flooded by invitations to a large number of glamorous parties.” 

 

“Let’s hope it’s the latter.” Joe cut in, smile clear in his voice. “Here it is, number one from Pete Wentz, it’s Christmas Is All Around.”

 

Pete screwed up his face, jamming a finger in his ear. “Oh, Jesus, not that crap again!” As soon as he hung up, a woman who had clearly been stocking up on drinks handed him a mobile phone, which of course he answered. “Hello. Elton? Of course. Send an embarrassingly big car and I’ll be there.” He hung up, grinning. “It’s gonna be a very good Christmas.”

 

***

 

William entered his family’s house with two large bags filled to the brim with presents.

 

The children looked so excited.

 

A vision of Gabriel flashed before his eyes.

 

He handed the bags to his aunt, said a quick goodbye, and ran to catch a taxi to the airport.

 

***

 

Brendon and Sarah were watching some sort of Christmas-y movie with Colin Firth and Keira Knightley in it and cuddling on their couch. The doorbell rang, and Brendon untangled himself, standing and kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll get it.”

 

At the door was Ryan. Holding a bunch of signs.

 

“Who is it?” Sarah yelled from the couch.

 

Ryan’s sign read ‘SAY IT’S CAROL SINGERS’. Brendon complied, slightly confused.

 

“Give them a dollar and tell them to piss off!” Sarah turned the TV up, not particularly interested in listening to them.

 

Ryan pulled out his phone and turned the volume up, playing Silent Night. He presented the next sign. ‘WITH ANY LUCK, BY NEXT YEAR’ He flipped the sign, smiling but not looking hopeful. ‘I’LL BE GOING OUT WITH ONE OF THESE PEOPLE’. The signs were swapped again to reveal some cutouts of various models. Brendon couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘BUT FOR NOW, LET ME SAY’ Ryan flipped the sign again, taking a deep breath. ‘WITHOUT HOPE OR AGENDA’ Brendon swallowed, not sure what was going to happen next. ‘JUST BECAUSE IT’S CHRISTMAS’ Ryan gave a cheeky smile, turning the sign over. ‘(AND AT CHRISTMAS YOU TELL THE TRUTH)’. Brendon pulled the sleeves of his jumper up around his hands. ‘TO ME, YOU ARE PERFECT’. Ryan bit his lip, searching Brendon’s face for something. Brendon’s mouth fell open, causing steam to curl out of his mouth. ‘AND MY WASTED HEART WILL LOVE YOU UNTIL YOU LOOK LIKE THIS’. Ryan flipped the sign to reveal something that was either a zombie or a skeleton but was definitely very dead. And then, it was time for the final sign. ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS’.

 

Brendon, in his slightly shocked state, whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

 

Ryan smiled, albeit sadly, and took his phone and the signs, walking down the street. Brendon ran out behind him, grabbing Ryan by the shoulders, then kissing him, firmly. Not letting Ryan say anything, Brendon turned on his heel and ran back inside to his wife.

 

“Enough.” Ryan swallowed, took a deep breath, and continued walking down the street. “Enough now.”

 

***

 

The doorbell rang at Patrick’s place. Patrick, who had literally nothing better to do, took his time walking to the door and found Pete, beer in hand. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Elton John’s!”

 

“Well, I was there for a minute or two and then I had an epiphany.” Pete looked more sheepish than Patrick had ever seen him. “Um… it was about Christmas.”

 

Patrick folded his arms, grinning. “You realised that it was all around.”

 

“No.” Pete swayed, looking around at the records and posters of his face on the walls. “I realised that Christmas is the time to be with the people you love.” Patrick didn’t see where exactly he was going with this. Pete swallowed and pushed forward. “And I realised that, as dire chance and fateful fuckup would have it, here I am, mid-forties, and without knowing it, I’ve gone and spent most of my adult life with a tiny employee.” He walked over so he was face to face with Patrick. “And, as much as it grieves me to say it, it might be that the people I love is, in fact…. you?”

 

“Well, this is a surprise.” Patrick blinked, incredibly confused. “Ten minutes at Elton John’s and you’re gay as a meatball?”

 

“No, look.” While Pete did smile at that, he put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders, trying to get him to understand. “I’m serious here. I left Elton’s, where there were a lot of half-naked chicks with their mouths open in order to hang out with you at Christmas.” Patrick was speechless. His mouth flapped open and closed like a fish. Pete took the opportunity to continue with what he was saying. “It’s a terrible, terrible mistake, short-stack… But you turned out to be the fucking love of my life.” He took a deep breath, looking perfectly relieved to have gotten everything out. “And to be honest, despite all my complaining… we have had a wonderful life.”

 

Patrick might have started tearing up. “Well… thank you.” He unfolded his arms, chest swelling with pride. “I mean, come on, it’s been an honour. I feel very proud.” He reached up and hugged Pete tightly, who of course hugged back.

 

“Oh, look, don’t be a moron.” Pete grinned like a teenager who’d just purchased a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of alcohol, and dirty magazines with a stolen credit card. “Let’s get hammered and watch porn.”

 

***

 

Dallon sorted through the many Christmas cards he’d received that year. Most were from other important people, which he glanced at and tossed to the side, but there was one that caught his eye.

 

_~~Dear sir~~ _ _Dear Dallon,_

 

_Merry Christmas and I hope you have a very happy New Year. I’m very sorry about the thing that happened. It was a very odd moment and I feel like a prize idiot. Particularly because (if you can’t say it at Christmas, when can you, huh?) I’m actually yours._

 

_With love,_

 

_Your Breezy xxx_

 

Dallon slammed the card down and picked up his phone. “Bob, yeah, I need a car. Right now. Thank you.” He tugged on his blazer and was downstairs in a matter of seconds, not stopping to think and hearing nothing but the rush of blood to his head. Someone opened the front door for him, and someone got in the driver’s seat. Dallon got in the back, wanting nothing but to see Breezy again, just to talk. “I’d like to go to Harlem Avenue, the dodgy end.”  


They stopped at Harlem Avenue without any time seeming to pass, in Dallon’s mind. The driver turned around. “What number sir?”

 

Dallon felt a sense of dread drip down from his shoulders to his hips, quite a reasonable distance. “Oh, God, it’s the longest street in the world and I have absolutely no idea.”

 

Door 1.

 

“Hello,” Dallon put on his presidential professional voice. “Does Breezy live here?”

 

The old woman just looked confused. “No?”

 

“Right.” Oh, God, this was going to take all night. “Fine, thank you. Sorry to disturb.” He started walking away when the old woman stopped him. 

 

“Here, aren’t you the President?” She continued looking confused.

 

“Uh, yes.” Dallon nodded, wanting to just move on. “In fact, I am. Merry Christmas.” He looked to his bodyguard, Ryan, for help. “Part of the service now. Trying to get round to everyone by New Year’s Eve.”

 

Door 28.

 

The door opened to apparently no one until Dallon glanced down at the three small children that were dressed up with fairy wings. “Uh. Hello. Does Breezy live here?”

 

A very matter-of-fact one at the front shook her head. “No, she doesn’t.”

 

“Oh dear.” Dallon let out a shiver. It was bitterly cold. “Okay.”

 

He was about to leave again when the kids stopped him with a question. “Are you singing carols?”

 

A crease formed on Dallon’s forehead. “Uh, no. No, I’m not.”

 

“Please, sir, please!” The kids’ voices were so high pitched that Dallon was shocked his ears weren’t bleeding. “Please!”

 

“Well, I suppose I could.” He took a deep breath. “Another Christmas without you, that makes two in a row, just wrap me up like a present, I’ll tie you up with a bow-“

 

Door 100.

 

A man with curly hair and a tight red shirt opened the door. Dallon put his hands in his pockets. “Hello. Sorry to disturb. Does Breezy live here?” It had become sort of robotic, after having to repeat it so many times.

 

“No.” The man shook his head. Dallon, already caught up in his disappointment, started moving on. “She lives next door.”

 

Dallon’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Brilliant!”

 

“You’re not who I think you are,” The man squinted as if that would make Dallon’s face change. “Are you?”

 

“Yes, and I’m sorry about all the fuckups.” Dallon, to his credit, didn’t sprint next door to try and see the woman he was in love with. “My party is absolute crap. We hope to do better next year. Merry Christmas.”

 

Door 101. (Breezy’s door)

 

This time, Dallon didn’t have to ring the doorbell. A rather large number of people bustled towards the door, stopping with a few gasps when they noticed him. “Uh. Hello. Is, uh, Breezy in?”

 

Before anyone could answer, she started walking down the stairs. “Where the fuck is my fucking coat?” She looked up, seeing Dallon and smiling. “Oh. Hello.” She seemed to remember her family. “Um, this is my mom and my dad and my uncle and my auntie… And um, this is the President.”

 

Breezy’s mom smiled. “Yes, we can see that, darling.”

 

“And, um,” A tiny ‘v’ appeared between Breezy’s eyebrows. “Unfortunately, we’re very late.”

 

“It’s the school Christmas concert, you see, Dallon.” Breezy’s mom seemed to start revving up for a long spiel. “And it’s the first time all the local schools have joined together, even Lake View, which is most-“

 

“Too much detail, Mom.” Breezy shot a glare at her. 

 

“Anyway,” Breezy’s dad, not wanting to have a fight on his hands, directed the conversation to Dallon. “How can we help, sir?”

 

“Well,” Shit. Dallon hadn’t really prepared for this. “I just needed Breezy… on some state business.”

 

“Right, yes. Of course.” Breezy’s dad nodded and turned to Breezy. “Right, uh, well, perhaps you should come along later, Plumpy.” He coughed, looking embarrassed. “Uh, Breezy.”

 

Dallon folded his arms behind his back. “I don’t want to make you late for the concert.”

 

“No, really, it doesn’t matter.” Breezy brushed it off, keep her smile intact.

 

“Keith’ll be very disappointed. The octopus costume’s taken me months.” Breezy’s mom ruffled up the child in front’s hair. “Eight is a lot of legs, Dallon.”

 

“Mm.” Dallon took a deep breath, then gestured to the cars behind him. “Listen, why don’t I give you a lift and then we can talk about this state business… business in the car?”

 

Most of Breezy’s family fit in the police car that had accompanied him to Breezy’s house, leaving Dallon, Breezy, and the kid dressed as an octopus between them. Dallon batted a tentacle out of his face. “How far is this place?”

 

Breezy tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just round the corner.”

 

“Oh, right.” Dallon settled back into his seat. “Well, uh, I just wanted to say… thank you for the Christmas card.”

 

“You’re welcome.” It was an automatic response, but Breezy took a deep breath and decided to say what she needed to. “Look, I’m so sorry about that day. I came in and he slinked towards me and there was a fire and he’s the Prime Minister of Australia, and nothing happened, I promise.” She turned towards him, looking over the bulbous octopus head. “I just felt like such a fool because… I think about you all the time, actually. And I think you’re the man I really-“

 

“We’re here!” The kid in the octopus costume shrieked as the car parked, and began climbing right over Dallon’s lap.

 

“…Love.” Breezy almost whispered the word, sighing.

 

“Oh, wow. That really was just around the corner.” Dallon peered out the window, then turned to Breezy, sighing. “Well, look, I think I’d better not come in, you know? The last thing anyone wants is some sleazy politician stealing the kids’ thunder.”

 

Breezy shook her head, pleading. “No, please come. It’ll be great.”

 

“No, I-I,” Dallon swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I better not. But I will be very sorry to drive away from you.”

 

A sly smile spread across Breezy’s face. “Just give me one second.” With that, she ran off, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

 

Dallon sat in the car, twiddling his thumbs.

 

Within a few minutes, Breezy had returned, steam curling out of her bright red lips and pink tinging her cheeks. “Come on in, we can watch from backstage.”

 

“Okay.” Dallon grinned, climbing out of the car and taking Breezy’s hand. “Look, this has to be a very secret visit.”

 

“Don’t worry.” She bit her bottom lip, smiling up at him and eyes glittering. “This was my school. I know my way around.” And she lead him off into the back entrance of the school.

 

***

 

Gerard bustled his children along, trying to get them ready for the nativity play. “Look, the sheep are ready already, and you’re not even- Oh, Dallon!” Out of nowhere, the president was just wandering around the backstage of the school auditorium!

 

“Oh! How are you!” Dallon gasped, before Gerard practically leapt at him, hugging him tightly.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gerard released him, smiling wide. “I always tell your secretary’s secretary’s secretary these things are going on but it never occurred to me you’d actually turn up!”

 

Dallon smiled, not realising that he was still holding Breezy’s hand. “Well, I thought it was time I did. I didn’t want anyone to see, so I’m gonna hide somewhere.” He turned to the Way-Iero kids. “Good luck, Bandit, good luck, Miles.”

 

“I’ve never been gladder to see my stupid best friend. Thank you.” Gerard shoved his hands into his pockets, then noticed Breezy, glancing down at the hand that was holding Dallon’s. “Oh, now, we haven’t been introduced.”

 

“Oh, this is Breezy, who’s my, um…” Dallon smiled, gesturing to her. Breezy waved politely. “Who’s my, um… catering manager.”

 

Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Catering manager?” He turned to Breezy. “Watch he keeps his hands off you. 20 years ago, you’d have been his type.”

 

“I’ll be very careful.” Breezy’s scarlet lips curled up at the corners. “Don’t try something, sir. just because it’s Christmas.”

 

An alarm started going off somewhere, and Gerard gasped, starting to bustle the children along again. “Come on, showtime.” He glanced back at Dallon and Breezy. “Look, see you after, yeah?”


	6. Chapter 6

The nativity play ended with all the cast (which included three lobsters, a whale, and one of the five kings with a face painted like Spider-Man.). After the thunderous applause from the supportive parents, a teacher in a blue jumper walked out, carrying a shiny silver scarf.

 

“Lake View High School would now like to present their Christmas number. Lead vocals by ten-year-old Ashley Frangipane, backing vocals coordinated by her mother.” The teacher paused, wrapping the scarf around his neck. “Um, some of the staff have decided to help out and for this, we ask you to forgive us. Thank you.”

 

A small girl that Mikey presumed was the same girl that Josh was in love with began singing the starting words to ‘All I Want For Christmas’, and within a few moments, the whole crowd was standing and clapping and swaying along.

 

Breezy and Dallon, backstage, found themselves getting closer and closer together until there was a spotlight on them and the entire audience was watching them make out. “Right.” Dallon wiped the lipstick off his mouth. “So, not quite as secret as we’d hoped.”

 

Breezy looked sort of like a deer in the headlights. “What do we do now?” She whispered, clasping his hand for comfort.

 

“Smile.” Dallon did as he said, and encouraged Breezy to do the same. “Take a bow. Wave.”

 

***

 

“Josh!” Mikey strode backstage, grinning and clapping. “Fantastic show! Classic drumming, son.”

 

Josh looked perfectly morose, holding his drumsticks loosely in one hand. “Thanks. The plan didn’t work, though.”

 

“Tell her, then!” Mikey raised his hands up as if it was completely obvious. 

 

“Tell her what?” Josh raised an eyebrow, passing Mikey the sticks and shoving his hands in his jacket.

 

Mikey took him by the shoulders, ready to shake him. “That you love her!”

 

“No way!” Josh sounded slightly scandalised and pouted in the way that only children could really get away with. “Anyway, they fly tonight.”

 

“Even better!” Mikey knelt down, knitting his eyebrows together in earnest. “Josh, you’ve got nothing to lose and you’ll always regret if you don’t.” He felt a pang of regret hang in his heart. “I never told your mom enough. I should’ve told her every day because she was perfect every day.” He clapped Josh on the shoulder, smiling. “You’ve seen the films, kiddo. It ain’t over til it’s over.”

 

The corner of Josh’s mouth curled. “Okay, Dad.” Mikey felt a swell of pride at finally being called ‘dad’. “Let’s do it. Let’s go get the shit kicked out of us by love.” Josh patted his pockets and realised he’d forgotten something. “Just give me one sec.”

 

Mikey nodded and stood, banging into a shorter man with spiky black hair. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

The man shook his head, smiling. “Sorry.”

 

“That’s okay.” Mikey swallowed, smiling back a little awkwardly. “My fault.”

 

“No, no, really, it wasn’t.” He was wearing a festive red beanie and holding the hand of a child that looked about the same age as Josh. “You’re Josh’s dad, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah.” Mikey subconsciously adjusted his jacket. “Stepdad, actually. I’m Mikey.”

 

“I’m Billie.” With a rush, Mikey realised who exactly he was talking to. “Tyler’s dad.”

 

Josh came back, waving to Tyler. “Okay, I’m back, let’s go.”

 

“Yeah.” Mikey blinked, bringing himself back to reality. “Well, I hope we’ll meet again, Billie Joe.”

 

“Just Billie.” Billie laughed, glancing down at Tyler, and starting to make his way out. “I’ll make sure we do.”

 

Josh and Mikey started walking to the exit before Josh decided to make a comment. “Tell him.” Mikey frowned, completely bamboozled. “You know.” He made kissy noises with his mouth, smiling the whole time.

 

Mikey ruffled up his hair. “Oh, don’t be such an ass.”

 

***

 

William arrived at Gabriel’s front door, having caught a taxi directly from the airport. “Buenas tardes. ¿Señor Saporta?”

 

Gabe’s father nodded. “Sí.”

 

“Estoy aquí para pedirle a su hijo sus manos en matrimonio.” William took a deep breath, folding his arms.

 

Mr Saporta frowned. “¿Quieres casarte con mi hijo?”

 

“Sí.” William nodded solemnly, knowing that this was something he needed to do.

 

Mr Saporta turned, beckoning to a man that was… not Gabriel. “Ven aquí, hay un hombre en la puerta. Él quiere casarse contigo.” William began panicking and shaking his head.

 

“¡Pero nunca lo había visto antes!” Gabriel’s brother began to protest.“¿Me vas a vender a un completo desconocido?”

 

“¿Vender?” Mr Saporta raised his eyebrows. “¿Quién dijo vender? ¡Le pagaré!”

 

“Perdóname.” William cut in, chewing his lip. “Me refiero a tu otro hijo ... Gabriel.”

 

Mr Saporta’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. “Él no está aquí.”He grabbed his coat and keys. “El esta en el trabajo. Te llevaré.” He turned to his other son. “¡Tu! ¡Quédate aquí!”

 

“Como si quisiera!” He gathered his coat around him, following the two of them. “¡Estúpido!” As the three of them walked down to the restaurant, they passed some people eating and drinking at tables, and Gabriel’s brother decided to tell them all what was happening. “¡Padre está a punto de vender a Gabriel como esclavo de este estadounidense!” To William’s surprise, they all stood up and began following them.

 

***

 

Mikey lead Josh up to the gate of the airport, where some tired teenager was making sure no one without a boarding pass could get through. Perhaps it gave him a sense of self-importance. Mikey took a deep breath, then barrelled forwards. “Look, we’re not actually flying-“

 

“You can’t come through.” The teenager yawned, stretched, and scratched his peach fuzz.

 

Mikey pushed Josh in front of him, desperately trying to convince him to let them past. “Not even to let the boy say goodbye to the love of his life?”

 

The teenager glanced down at Josh, then back up at him. “No.”

 

Mikey, knowing that Josh’s heart would be in his feet, he lead him aside. “I’m sorry, Josh-” Before he could finish his point, he noticed a man with a large coat, a hat, gloves, a scarf, and a carryon bag with the name ‘KENNETH HARRIS’ written on it in silver letters, who was taking an incredibly long time to find his boarding pass. “Unless…” He knelt down, grabbing Josh by the shoulders. “Do you want to make a run for it?”

 

Josh looked up, a gleam of hope in his eyes. This could be his only chance. “Do you think I should?”

 

Mikey, despite his better judgement, nodded. Josh turned, sprinting through the airport. He was chased by security guards the whole way until he reached Ashley, and her mom and dad, who were about to get on the plane.

 

“Ashley.” Josh took a deep breath to try and stop himself from panting. Damn, that was a long way to run.

 

Ashley turned, eyes wide. “Josh?”

 

“I thought you didn’t know my name.” Josh blinked, a strand of bright yellow hair falling in his face.

 

“Of course I do.” Ashley smiled, taking a step towards Josh.

 

The security guards stopped behind him with a clatter of footsteps, and Josh turned, getting ready to go again. “Here, I’ve gotta run.”

 

Two guards grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and walked him out to Mikey, who was trying not to look proud. Josh held up his first finger, grinning. Mikey pointed behind him, and to his surprise, Ashley ran up and tapped him on the shoulder. Josh spun around, and Ashley leaned in, kissing him on the cheek, then running back to board her plane.

 

***

 

It felt like half the city was bursting into the tiny restaurant. William could barely see Gabriel for all the people that were eating there. Then, behind the band, he walked out, apron wrapped around his waist. William cleared his throat, taking a small step forward. “Buenas tardes, Gabriel.”

 

Gabriel blinked, turning his head. He hadn’t expected… No, it couldn’t be, could it? ““Buenas tardes, William.”

 

"Hermoso Gabriel …" William looked up to the upper level of the restaurant, where Gabe was standing. "He venido aquí con el objetivo de pedirte que te cases conmigo. Sé que parezco una persona demente porque casi no te conozco, pero a veces pienso que es tan transparente,” He swallowed, forcing himself to continue.”No necesitan evidencias prueba. Y habitaré aquí o puedes habitar conmigo en América- "

 

"¡Definitivamente ve por América, chico!” Gabe’s brother yelled from behind him. “¡Conocerás a Jeff Goldblum, puedes casarte con él en cambio!"

"Por supuesto que no espero que seas tan tonto como yo y, por supuesto, predigo que dices que no,” William felt an awkward smile spreading across his face. "Pero es Navidad y solo quería ... verificar.”

 

“Oh, Dios. Di que sí, tú hermoso imbécil!” Gabriel’s brother piped up again, only to be nudged by their father.

 

Gabriel hesitated, leaning onto the banister. “Thank you.” His voice was heavily accented, the words unfamiliar. “That will be nice.” He paused again, breaking into a smile. “Yes is being my answer. Easy question!”

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEQPXDGRaEk


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